


thoughts of you

by archons



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Banter, Early in Canon, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 22:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archons/pseuds/archons
Summary: After a few days on Voeld without him, Oberon Ryder settles down in the tech lab on the Tempest to spend some time in Jaal's company.





	

The flight between Voeld and the Nexus took the better part of a day, and Oberon spent those hours in the tech lab, still shaking off the chill. There was warmth to be found deep within his hoodie, but the comfort he craved rested more heavily upon the shoulders of his company than what he was wrapped up in.

“I apologize for not coming with you,” Jaal murmured just loud enough for Oberon to hear over the steady hum of the ship. His back was turned, facing the station where he did the lion's share of his tinkering. “I was... close to finishing.”

Jaal chuckled.

Oberon burrowed deeper into his hoodie and smiled.

“If I had gone with you...” His broad shoulders lifted, and the orange glow of his omni-tool flickered before burning brighter. “I might have thought of another change I'd like to make.”

“Because you do your best thinking in the Nomad...?”

Again, Jaal let out a breathy chuckle and glanced over his shoulder at the Pathfinder who sat perched on the edge of his bed. Their eyes met for a moment before Oberon looked away, turning his attention back to the tablet in his lap.

“Exactly so.”

With a muffled laugh of his own, Oberon drew his stylus across the tablet's surface. A streak of mint cut around the edge of the figure, outlining him like the sun's rays might. “Weird,” he said, wrinkled his nose, and erased the line. He repeated himself twice more before he was happy with his progress. “How do you do that?”

Jaal made a thoughtful noise and twisted back around to focus on his work. “My understanding of relaxation is different than yours.” His explanation came slowly on a curling, careful tongue. He brushed his fingers over the length of the pistol lying on his work station.

Modding such unfamiliar weaponry had been a challenge, but learning and helping in the same instance made every minute of hard work worth it. Latticed materials adapted from those used in sniper rifles. A calibrated receiver. Enhanced magazine. The gun would require a little more work along with extensive testing, but he hoped it would suit Oberon more than the Initiative weapons he used out of necessity.

“I've learned through experience to take peacefulness wherever I can find it,” Jaal continued. He left his station and joined Oberon on the makeshift bunk, sitting close by his side. “In whatever sort of situation, whether that is being jostled by the Nomad or deafened by the... ah, the “music” in Vortex.”

Oberon rubbed the back of his free hand against his mouth and smiled against the bunched sleeve of his hoodie. He held the tablet against his stomach and clutched his stylus to keep it from slipping down onto the floor.

“So judgy.”

“Mm... Perhaps.”

Jaal rested his hand just behind Oberon, turning towards him with a curious expression. When he clocked Oberon's straightening posture and the color in his cheeks, he smiled rather than pulling away. “What are you drawing?”

“Oh, right. I'm - I'm drawing... uhh.”

“Ah! The illusive _uhh_ ,” he teased. “You were lucky to find one on Voeld. They so rarely leave their caves.”

This time, when Oberon laughed, it was high-pitched and shaky and quickly cut off by his hand. His nose wrinkled again, cheeks dimpling in an overwhelmed smile. When he trusted himself enough not to laugh again, he pulled his hand away with a quiet, “Jerk.”

Jaal brushed his thumb over the mattress behind Oberon's hips. Proximity never bothered him. He encouraged closeness with those he trusted, and not trusting Oberon was an impossibility.

“In all seriousness, I would like to see what you're working on.”

There was some hesitation, but Oberon eventually pulled the tablet away from his stomach just barely far enough for Jaal to catch a glimpse of what he was working on. It only took him a moment to realize that the man in the portrait was himself.

Oberon's art style was unlike anything Jaal had ever seen. It was jagged and stylized, the art of a man who worked with sharp, precise lines more than anything else. Lines and _color_. The jeweled tones of his skin were muted and cool, highlighted by the bright greenish-white of Voeld's aurora.

In the hour since they'd left the planet's atmosphere, Oberon managed to put him on Voeld, too.

“I... This is weird, right?” Chewing over his bottom lip, he waited for Jaal to answer. Even with how open the angara was, deciphering facial expressions had never been his strong suit. Before Jaal could even respond, Oberon's shoulders sunk, and he pressed the tablet back against his stomach. “Really. Weird. _Fuck_.”

Jaal shook his head, lifting his hand from the bunk to press against the gentle curve of Oberon's back. “Ssh, no,” he murmured, hoping his voice might calm him. “It is flattering.”

“And weird.”

“Flattering, and... thoughtful.”

Oberon looked away from Jaal's face, blue eyes darting around the lab rather than staying put. Rather than staring. He drew his legs up onto the bunk, folding them and rocking forward until he found a comfortable position more closed-up than before. “How is it thoughtful?” He glanced at Jaal, saw that he was watching him, and looked away again. “It's just a – it's just a sketch.”

Jaal rubbed a warm hand along the bend of Oberon's spine. “It is thoughtful because you were thinking of me, with you, on Voeld.”

“I...”

The truth. He spoke the truth.

Oberon had been thinking of him. He thought of the way Jaal weathered the cold, of the flickering aurora's colors playing off his skin. He thought of the way he stepped out of the Nomad with his rifle and an eager smile. He thought of how his rofjinn caught the chilly wind and fluttered behind him, cutting a heroic figure against the snow.

He thought of him, and when Oberon returned to the Nomad, the only thing he could think about doing was drawing him, even with his meager skills.

Tucking his chin against the edge of the tablet, Oberon nodded. There was no use in lying or trying to work his clumsy tongue around an excuse. They were both horrible at anything except honesty.

To Jaal's credit, he didn't let Oberon steep in his worry any more than he already had.

“Could you send this drawing to my omni-tool?”

The request perked the Pathfinder right up. He curled his fingers tighter around the tablet and straightened his back again, looking to Jaal with an expression that could only be explained as utter disbelief. Lips parted, eyes wide, cheeks flushed – it was all there.

He licked his lips, swallowed hard, and asked him, “Why do you want it? I mean, if you're just trying to make me... feel better...?” Oberon stopped himself short. His brow furrowed, and he laughed, shaking his head. “You aren't.” He nodded instead and saved his progress. “Once I'm done, I'll send the finished... picture to you.”

“Then...” Jaal lifted himself up off of the bed and moved back over to his work station. “I should finish working on your pistol, shouldn't I?”

They caught the beginning of each others' smiles before turning back to their work. That flash of teeth was all either of them needed to see. It hadn't taken them long to memorize what they looked like when they were happy.


End file.
